


love is like art, heartbroken on the canvas

by gambina



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gambina/pseuds/gambina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pat doesn’t look sid in the eye in the handshake line after the semifinal game</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is like art, heartbroken on the canvas

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this tumblr post](http://calliotrope.tumblr.com/post/77433731246/how-many-more-pictures-of-pkane-crying-while-jonny-and)

pat doesn’t look sid in the eye in the handshake line after the semifinal game and he continues to gather further and further into himself when jonny grabs his shoulder post-game. he fights - scrappy, breathless, fiercely determined - in the bronze medal game and it pays off, but his expression becomes even more pinched after the medal ceremony. jon is first on the plane back to chicago (home, but not actually) the next morning but kaner breezes past him (sunglasses on and chin up too high) to knock duncs in the knees until he lets patrick take the window seat next to him. pat does let jonny take him home, though - doesn’t even try to recluse himself in trump towers. he lets jonny spoon him and kiss the shell of his ear and make him breakfast the next morning (protein pancakes with turkey bacon - although he only eats about half before getting up and making himself a shake instead, not trusting his jaw to keep just chewing and not start working itself into some ugly sobs); patrick lets jonathan draw them a bath and he lets himself be washed, long strokes of a sopping wash cloth across the expanse of his shoulders, down his back where the 88 always is, even when he’s not wearing his sweater. he buys two matching display boxes in a cherry wood finish at a department store when his legs get too restless and he needs to walk around somewhere unfamiliar, and puts his bronze and jonny’s gold above the electric fireplace that never gets turned on in jonny’s office. they’ll stay in that spot for a while; it doesn’t seem right to bring medals into their off-season house (actual home) when geno doesn’t have one of his own (sidney’s medals stay in nova scotia, because home is sidney and geno's house in pittsburgh). pat preens a little when jonny notices them on the mantle and wraps a strong around around his waist, fingers drumming at his hipbone. “gold’s just a shinier version of bronze,” kaner jokes, “bet if i polished mine enough it’d look exactly like yours.” his smile’s not even halfway genuine, but tazer lets him get away with it.

but then sid and geno come to chicago for the stadium series and kaner disappears. pat leaves the locker room after practice while jonny’s still in the shower and he doesn’t go back to the condo. he pays an exorbitant fee for building maintenance to do a rush job on changing his lock and buries himself under pillows and blankets; he takes nyquil even though he doesn’t have a cold and he purposely sleeps through the dinner reservations that they have. he turns his phone off and removes his custom voicemail greeting in favor of a generic, so when zhenya calls (and calls and calls and calls and calls) from the restaurant, jonny's arm slung across the back of his chair, he doesn’t even get to hear patty’s low “text me if it’s an emergency, call taze if it’s even more important than that, otherwise do the name and number schpiel and i’ll get back to you as soon as i can”. evgeni is worried, he wants to forget about dinner and check on patrick but jon tells him that it’ll be okay. kaner needs some space. he’s still not done crying about his grandpa, won’t be for a long time. maybe he didn't feel like italian food tonight. he could be working out, going over tape, be at an appointment that he forgot to add to their shared google calendar. zhenya nods but he chews at his cuticles all through drinks, appetizers, salad, entree. he begs off dessert to swing by trump and try to convince patty to let him in; he wants to drink cold vodka with his smallest, easiest-to-spoon boyfriend, curled up on the armchair that doesn't even face the tv, and talk shit about how gold is garrish and overdone anyway and hey patrick you’re not going through this alone, at least you got to bring something home. he lets sid and jonny have their countrymen time and they let him leave; he can hear them bringing french words into the conversation before he’s even fully shrugged his coat on.

patrick won’t answer the door and zhenya’s key won’t turn in the lock (he must have the wrong one, although how could that have happened?). he muses, standing outside patrick’s door, about calling patrick sharp - but zhenya has really had enough canadians for a while. he knocks one more time and shoots another text _patty (((((((( wanna snug u_ , but finally he leaves - fingertips lingering on the doorknob only just.

\----

pat just smiles easy at jonny the next morning when he pulls up a chair next to him at team breakfast. he kisses the corner of jonny’s lips through a mouth full of fruit and granola and jonny decides to drop his line of questioning before he even begins it. everybody has off nights and one missed dinner reservation when he’s been just fine doesn’t have to mean patrick’s on the verge of a meltdown.

patrick does show up for the game, obviously, but he slips into the dressing room at soldier field while jonny’s talking to the media with his hat pulled low over his eyebrows. the next time jonny sees him, he’s all dressed and ready to go, tapping shawzy’s ankles with his stick and throwing his head back in laughter at a joke that leddy dead-panned (or tried to anyway; led knows he’s funny and his cupid’s bow seems like it's perpetually shimmering with a hint of sweat which totally gives it away when his lips quirk into the teeniest of pleased smiles). jonathan watches patrick work the ice in warmups and he savor’s patrick’s “love you” when they bump helmets before taking the ice for real.

the game is actually pretty unremarkable except for the minute and a half that it rains right at the beginning of the third, not even real drops, more like god is just spitting at them for a moment. the ice is a little sloshy by that time and the precipitation certainly doesn’t help, but tazer’s winning two-thirds of his faceoffs against sid (which, come to think of it, actually is pretty remarkable) and kaner’s got a goal and an assist, and there are bigger fish to fry.

\----

sidney hates having his family divided. hates only getting to hug geno when a puck hits the back of crow’s net, and hates having to watch patrick and jonny celly together from across the ice. they should all be celebrating together (my victories are your victories because what’s mine is all of ours). he keeps trying to meet pat’s eye on the ice, but kaner’s focus seems to be anything but sidney.

blackhawks win, 4-3. sidney knows kaner’s avoiding him specifically (patty and zhenya had taken their pre-game nap together, curled up on patrick’s couch after a few tears and so many apology kisses and a new key wordlessly pressed into zhenya’s palm. sidney knows this because zhenya told him in the locker room while they were getting dressed for the game, putting the key on their shared keyring between taping up his left and right sock.) and kaner knows that sidney knows, because nothing ever stays a secret in their family. sid is initially surprised, but then not really after a few seconds, when patrick reaches out of a shadow to grab sid’s arm to pull him into a corner of the football stadium after the game, press gauntlet, and post-game workouts are all over. patrick doesn’t say anything for the longest time but sidney knows to wait; he just stares at sid’s shoulder, where the C would be if he were actually wearing his jersey, but right now he’s just in a cool grey suit, and traces around sidney’s neck with one finger, so delicate that it makes sid dizzy for a moment. patrick presses both of his hands into the center of sidney’s chest, a little oomph behind it that sid honestly wasn’t expecting, and then finally flicks his eyes up so blue can meet brown.

“i just wanted to win gold so you'd be proud of me,” patrick whispers, fingers getting twitchy and wrapping themselves up in sidney’s tie. sid’s heart fills so full so fast that it breaks with this weird, sad love that comes with sometimes loving someone more than they love themself. sidney leans down and kisses patrick with slow, careful presses of his lips all over kaner’s face. “you don’t have to tell me that you already are,” pat continues as sidney loves the bags under his eyes, his cheek bones, the side of his nose.

“i know you know,” sidney murmurs into patrick’s jawline. “doesn’t mean i can’t remind you still.”

**Author's Note:**

> so this obviously hasn't been beta'd and i'm sorry! just popped into my head and i wanted to get it down and out asap. i might come back around and clean this up (capitalize things, etc) but i probably won't. this is my first fic for this fandom (first work for any fandom in a looooong while) and is probably the most words i've written down at one time since i quit school last fall so i'm pretty nervous/excited to share this. 
> 
> title from "reminded" by tyga.


End file.
